The Rustled
by A Beautiful Insanity
Summary: Each survivor, at one time or another, came to the conclusion that each second could be their last. And from each moment passed, had written their last words on a piece of folded paper tucked away in their pockets. As a safe-keep for their loved ones, to know that death was not the last note amongst the final, reserved beat of their human pulses.


_**A/N:**_ _So lately, I've been having massive amounts of insomnia alongside my hiatus of creative thoughts. And what better to do with that time then binge watch a critically acclaimed television series based on its beloved comic book universe? Well, yeah, that's exactly what I did. Even if you are completely indifferent to slightly horrific, acts of cannibalism and mutilation, from both the living and dead, don't be. In the end, it's about how every single character survives, either themselves or through the hearts of others. Needless to say, I fell hard for their personalities next to the hardships they faced. Nothing would ever be the same, and through the words they spoke, they eventually grew to understand this concept. Upon this understanding, I theorized that each character, at one time or another, came to the conclusion that each second could be their last, from each moment passed, had written their last words on a piece of folded paper tucked away in their pockets. As a safe-keep for their loved ones, to know that death was not the last note amongst the final, reserved beat of their human pulses.  
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 ** _Lori Grimes_**

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Take what may. Give what chance inherits through a distinction of truths Freely remain upon what slunders in sloth. We pause inherently to recover each remembrance forgotten. We know of Hells; the refuges made from spite. We distract. The mere figment of being alive from another's ashes. We resolve early in that distinction amongst a forlorn segment of repetitious reciprocation. An endless cycle about wheels without means to turn. A faint ticking of worrisome to delay its masses.

For what purpose? Should we impose upon further judgment of the latter? No. For, we are not without a constant to shape the turns we take. Simultaneously, we gather our resources. Disembodied about our conscious state of mind. What need be. What might have been. Stop. Pause for a moment. That lone sigh at the back of your throat teases tenderly about your breath. It worries, an agonizing betrayal alongside defeat. Leave it be. It will subside. It will refrain. And the wholesomeness found at the Genesis will regain its strength.

Be willing. Be strong. Be what others use to carry on. And if you must reflect upon a single beat, I hope it's the brighter of your lesser defeats. Stay strong... still. Be who you become.. and nothing less. Life differs depending on its mess. You know doubts and secrets past. Leave them be, or you'll regain the rest. Be diligent, headstrong. Be willing to be wrong. And if you should fall, fall together. Know you are not weak because of another's strength. Others may seize, separate, even isolate. Don't.

Leave idle thoughts aside. If you must, wait. Because time passes both quick and slow. Your moments lived have remarkable outcomes. Be brave. Have kindness where it's earned. Say your thoughts if you must be loud. But don't hold regrets over the words you speak. Be fair. Be diligent. Be prepared. Because I wasn't. You will be all these things, effectively, given time. What you learn will cost an invaluable endeavor amongst those close to you. Hold strong. Because I couldn't. I want you alive, for as long as it takes. Because I won't be there. And if I'm not, know that I loved you with every breath that time allowed me... down to the last second.

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 _ **A/N:** After the aftermath of the walking dead overtaking Hershel's farm, the group of survivors reunites and forges for a new beginning, which involves a nomadic existence until they come across their new refuge camp at a prison. As Lori's pregnancy furthers during a constant battle for dominance of their newfound territory, she reflects on what future encapsulates meaning for her son, Carl, and her unborn child. While writing what Hershel misinterprets as a 'death note', she defiantly defends its purpose aside from premeditated chaos and agony. How Lori wants Carl to perceive the world, if her or Rick should not exist one day. Although Maggie is the one that discovers her last words, Hershel is the one who admits to the knowledge of why she kept it with her all that time. Carl eventually receives this message once the group settles in an abandoned barn. What he does not realize is how much meaning the note would have amongst their persistent, cataclysmic endeavors and how it effected each one of them that night, even if the apocalyptic world hadn't already changed their beliefs in holding out for something brighter in the distance. _


End file.
